Chapter Three

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My body gave out but my brain was still wide awake, with panic

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My body gave out but my brain was still wide awake, with panic.

Before I could hit the ground, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and the other held my arm.

"Woah easy there." I heard a gruff voice murmur in confusion before I was getting picked up in his hold and the door shut behind us as he walked in and I savoured the warmth of the cabin.

He gently set me down on a couch and then he left the room leaving me alone, and panicked. My breathing was heavy, my chest was squeezing and my mind felt dizzy.

What just happened?

I could hardly gather my thoughts and my breathing was getting shorter and my lungs were screaming at me.

"Hey hey." I heard the same voice and then my face was being held by big, warm hands that tilted my head upwards.

I still had teary eyes and so I could only make out a blurry face and black hair.

"Breathe, darling, breathe." He whispered as he wiped a fallen tear from the corner of my eye but I couldn't.

I couldn't breathe.

I was hyperventilating.

"You're safe now." He continued to say.

"Just focus on my voice and take a deep breath for me." He pushed and I did.

I took a breath and then he told me to do it again and again until I was breathing normally.

"That's it, you're doing so good." He continued to say in a soft voice as I finally calmed down.

He let go of my face and grabbed a glass of water which I just noticed and helped me drink. I pushed the glass away when I had drank enough and then blinked away the tears to look at his face.

The first thing I noticed about him were his eyes.

They were grey, and they reminded me of clouds before a storm would hit. They were so stunning. He had black hair that was messy but looked very soft. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry and his face was also set in a worried but questioning frown. He had a light stubble and his body was tall and big compared to mine.

His whole body was muscular and he looked like someone who would be a professional boxer.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sitting down next to me and I noticed a hint of a British accent in his voice.

"I-I think so." I answered hoarsely.

"Your leg looks really bad, would you mind if I take a look at it?" He asked cautiously and suddenly the pain in my leg came back full force as I glanced back at it.

My blue jeans were now ripped and wet with blood and when I glanced at my hands they too were covered with scratches from the tree trunk.

"My jeans." I mumbled. How was he gonna take a look at my legs with my jeans like that?

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